


Your Heart Says Otherwise

by clarkesbell



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunken Confessions, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Some Swearing, Step-Sibling Romance, Two Idiots Realizing They've Been in Love With Each Other for Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesbell/pseuds/clarkesbell
Summary: "Derek and Casey were doomed to hate each other for eternity, or at least pretend to do so. Falling in love with her stepbrother was never in her plans, and she hated when things escaped her control. Except this. She didn’t hate this. Not one bit."Or the one where drunk Derek confesses his feelings for Casey.
Relationships: Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 58
Kudos: 278





	Your Heart Says Otherwise

**Author's Note:**

> If the Life With Derek fandom was a party, I would be the one arriving one day later. In my defense, I didn't even know about the show's existence when I was a kid, but the important thing is that I found it and I (an intellectual) instantly fell in love with Dasey. Their shippers are still out there, creating amazing stories and headcanons and I wanted to be a part of it. So, I hope you enjoy this fluffy little thing I wrote ❤️  
> P.S.: English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any typos and/or mistakes!

Casey liked to think of herself as a bright, upbeat, half-full-glass kind of girl. But there were plenty of things she hated. Moving with two fourths of her original family to another household with people she had no connection with used to be one of them, but she learned — or better yet, was _forced_ — to deal with it. And most days, she wasn't sure she was completely pleased with the idea (insert Derek's pranks and constant insults here). 

She also hated messy spaces, lack of punctuality and criticism — last Wednesday, Paul said that she needed to take criticism more lightly and she accidentally broke his coffee cup into tiny pieces by slamming her hands on his desk while loudly claiming “ _I know very well how to take criticism._ ” But she was working on it. 

In fact, she had a list of things she hated written in purple sparkly ink on her diary — and surprise, surprise: most of the items had Derek’s name on them, — but there was something that she hated more than anything: going to parties with him. 

Lately, she had become his personal designated driver. It started the first semester of junior year. George never fully trusted his own son to go to a house filled with teenagers and unknown substances even when the Venturis consisted only of himself and his own kids; but now that Derek was a little older and Nora's own concerns about her stepson added to George's, it always fell on Casey the responsibility to make sure her stepbrother made it home in one piece. 

The first time they asked her to accompany him, she burst into laughter, certain that it was a prank of their own just to test her reaction. " _Me?_ Going with _Derek?_ _Me and Derek_ driving together to a party? Me and Derek at a _party_?" She took a second to catch her breath and sat on the arm of the couch where her parents were now looking at her expectantly. No sign of humor on their faces. Casey frowned, comprehension hitting her like an avalanche. "This is a joke, right? Please, tell me this is a joke." 

"I'm afraid not, Case," Nora said, pursing her lips. 

Casey had a million thoughts going through her head, a jumble of words that she couldn’t put together due to the insanity of their request. She hated being the responsible one in the house — and that included both Nora and George. It wasn’t enough that she had taken care of her sister for nearly twelve years and of her step siblings for the last three, but now she had to babysit Derek?

" _Why_ would I go to a party I wasn't even invited to? More importantly: why would I go to a party I wasn't invited to _with Derek_?" 

"Well," George began, "Sam's throwing a party at his house and we're fully aware of what can happen in those kinds of… events. Derek’s getting older and we're a little…" he trailed off, looking at his wife for support. 

Nora leaned forward, covering George's hand with her own while looking at Casey with an affable smile. "Worried. You know Derek. He's at this age—" 

"We're the _same_ age. How come you want _me_ to go?" 

"Because you're the total opposite of him?" George tried, forcing a smile that would make her laugh if the situation wasn’t so ridiculous. 

"So, you want me to babysit your son? I stopped babysitting when my little sister became responsible enough to take care of herself. At _twelve_." 

"Casey, that's not what we mean. We just… we trust you."

Nora nodded, adding: "And maybe you can even enjoy the party yourself. You're a teenager, you’re allowed to enjoy things every now and then." 

"I can't enjoy something if Derek is there." 

"Oh, come on now," Nora said, reaching for her daughter's hand. Casey reluctantly took it. "This can actually be a way for the two of you to get along."

"Mom, not even _you_ believe that.” 

"Just this once." 

"Even if I wanted to, there's no way I'd convince Derek to let me go with him."

"You'll get fifty bucks," George said, raising his eyebrows for effect. "Eighty if you bring him back before 1 a.m." 

"Is this a game now? Do I get gold bars if I bring him back by eleven?" 

"Casey…" Nora tilted her head to the side, offering her a motherly smile. 

Casey sighed, knowing it was a losing battle. "Just this once?" 

"Just this once." 

Two weeks later, Casey found out her mother straight up lied to her face, because ‘ _just this once_ ’ became every other weekend. And thus, began her Saturdays of misery, with Derek complaining before and during their rides to every party, forcing her to promise not to embarrass him and pretend they didn't know each other the entire time. She told herself that if it wasn’t for the money she was making, she would back out and tell her mom she wouldn’t do that anymore. But there was a tiny part of her — a miniscule part that she would often try to ignore — that liked having plans on Saturday night, even if they weren’t hers in the first place, and getting to hang out with friends. And maybe — just maybe — Derek wasn’t so bad. 

Usually, he wasn't even a problem. He would hang out with his friends, staying as far away from her as possible. Sometimes, she would find Emily, Sam or even Noel and end up having a good time and, if she was lucky enough, Derek would be too focused on girls to remember pranking her or getting on her nerves just for the sake of it. But those were rare times, and whether they happened or not, he would always end up drinking a little too much and she would end up being his designated driver. _Again_.

This time, it wasn’t different. It was Justin Russell’s birthday party and she had enjoyed the evening in Emily’s company, watching Derek every now and then just to make sure he was sober. For some reason, he hadn’t been with any girl that night, as he hadn’t in the previous parties as well, except for when Erika Boucher asked him to dance and he — very reluctantly — accepted it. Casey would never admit it — and here she thought she should probably make a list of things she’d never admit; and surprise, surprise: this list would most probably have Derek’s name all over it again — but watching him dance was something else. He was confident, as usual, but there was much more than that: he was carefree, joyful, filled with a childish mirth that she didn’t always have the chance to witness. There was an obscure thought in the back of her mind wondering what it would be like to dance with him. 

But then Emily touched her arm, bringing her back to reality, and started to rant about some cute guy that was checking her out from the other side of the room. Soon enough, she had lost Derek in the middle of the dancing crowd. She found him half an hour later, shoulders under Sam’s arm, barely able to stand up.

“What the hell, Sam?” she practically yelled at the guy, though her voice didn’t sound as loud under the terrible electronic song the other people were swaying their bodies to. 

“Heeey,” Derek chanted, giving her his trademark half-smile. “It’s Casey!”

She didn’t need to smell his breath to know he was completely drunk. If she weren’t both worried and mad, she would have found his uncommon behavior funny. But all she did was glare at Sam. 

He pressed his lips together with an apologetic look on his face. “I know you told me to watch him. I’m so sorry, Casey.”

“Hey, lay off him,” Derek said, furrowing his brow and pointing a finger at Casey. “He was talking to Janet.”

“ _Amber_ ,” Sam corrected.

“Amber. I knew that.”

Casey rolled her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t blame Sam for not doing her own job. She was literally being paid to watch Derek — and how pathetic is that? If Derek knew about it, he would prank her every single day of the rest of her life for payback — and she failed at it. In her defense, Derek warned her not to be around him and she asked Sam for help.

“That’s okay,” she said, walking up to her stepbrother, taking his hand and lifting his arm to put it around her shoulders, in order to support half his weight. “Help me get him to the car.”

“I can walk on my own, you know” Derek complained, being utterly ignored by both of his helpers. He didn’t say another word when Sam practically shoved him into the passenger seat of the Prince and left them with another apologetic goodbye. 

Casey didn’t dare to break the silence during the ride; that was the part she didn’t hate: when he was drunk, he wasn’t his usual jerk self and she could appreciate the scarce moments of peace between them. Granted he closed his eyes and fell asleep the moment his head hit the leather seat, but it was still nice. It felt like those occasional moments of truce between them. 

Here’s another item to add to her yet-to-be-made-list of things she’d never admit: she liked hanging out with him when he wasn’t trying to annoy her. Yes, those moments existed, and she had been able to understand how his mind worked by now. He only treated her nicely when he wasn’t thinking too much, being naturally himself. Which meant that his stupid usual demeanor was a choice, and she didn’t know if it made her more confused or irritated.

He woke up when she was parking the car in the garage. 

“Okay, listen up,” she began, grabbing the sleeve of his leather jacket, which made him pull his arm back with unnecessary violence, “mom and George are probably sleeping by now and they have to wake up super early tomorrow, so I need you to be _very_ quiet. Can you do that?”

Derek groaned, opening his door. “No, let me wake my dad up so he can give me a lecture about drinking at my age,” he retorted with sharp sarcasm, which she would have found a stupid childish answer for if she didn’t know arguing with a drunk man was useless.

They managed to enter the house and tiptoe their way to Derek’s room somehow, with some difficulty. His steps weren’t firm, so she had to support his weight, only Sam wasn’t there anymore and Derek was twice her size. She had had to deal with drunk Derek many times before, but he had never been so wrecked.

"My bed!" he practically squeaked when she opened his bedroom door. 

Casey couldn’t help but silently smile at how strangely adorable this was. The thought was quickly suppressed and she reprimanded herself for even considering the idea of her stepbrother being anything other than stupid. Because he had just drank an enormous amount of alcohol and it only made him even more reckless and childish. _It_ is _adorable, though_ , the thought prodded at her when Derek giggled — she didn’t even know he was capable of doing it when not being sarcastic — and threw himself on his mattress. 

"Oh, it’s _so_ soft. I could just stay here all day." 

"That's your normal routine."

He chuckled and, although Casey was ready to receive a good — mean — response, it never came. Derek only sighed contently, cocking an eyebrow at her. "You're a funny one, Case."

She narrowed her eyes, still uncertain how to deal with not-mean-and-totally-out-of-character-Derek while watching him struggling to kick his blanket from under his body. "Glad to keep you entertained. Now, could you be so kind as to shut up so you don’t wake everybody up?"

He paused his already lost fight with the blanket to stare at her with a dramatically hurt look and a hand to his chest. "Hey, the fact that I'm tempo- tempra- _temporarily_ unable to do some things I'd normally be able to do don't give _you_ the right to give _me_ orders in _my_ room." 

Casey chuckled quietly at his stuttering as she turned her back on him to carefully close the door. Derek sank against his pillows, grunting while he covered his eyes with his arm. The wrinkled blanket under his body completely forgotten by now. 

“Can you turn off the damn lights?” 

She ignored him. "I told you not to drink. That's literally the _only_ thing I told you not to do. _And_ Sam. I guess I can't trust either of you."

"I don't need a sitter. And like I said before, I don't take orders from you."

"George was right," she muttered before she could think twice about the words coming out of her mouth. And surely, a second later, Derek was eyeing her suspiciously.

"Why is _my dad_ in this conversation?"

Casey sighed, walking up to the foot of his bed and starting to take off his shoes. He didn’t fight her, as she thought he would. He was too invested in the matter of knowing what his father’s role in this situation was. _Stupid mouth_ , Casey mentally yelled at herself.

"Forget it. He was just worried about this stupid party and with reason. Just go to sleep and we'll deal with your hangover tomorrow. I can’t go to bed late, mom and George are leaving first thing in the morning and I have to drive the kids to their—"

"Case, relax," he interrupted her, his tone changing to a nonchalant one. She put his shoes side by side by the foot of the bed — the only things organized amidst the chaos that was Derek’s room — and walked over to his side. He had his eyes closed now, one arm over his chest, soft breathing and a peaceful look on his face. Casey couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him without a smirk on his lips. She was mentally debating with herself whether it was acceptable to be staring at her stepbrother while he slept when he suddenly turned his head to the side, without opening his eyes, and resumed his attempts at sliding under the blanket.

"Here," Casey whispered, bending down to help him pull the blanket up to his chest. He grabbed the edge of the fabric, but his left hand ended up touching Casey’s and his eyes rose up to find hers. There was something so intense about his gaze that she didn’t dare withdraw her hand from under his, wondering why _he_ hadn’t done it yet. Derek hated any kind of physical contact and whenever she tried to do as much as touching his arm, he would deflect immediately.

"What is it?" she asked carefully.

Derek blinked, his eyes glazed with what she could only assume was the effect of alcohol. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. "Why are you doing this?"

The alarming seriousness in his demeanor and absence of any hints of mocking in his voice made her finally pull her hand away from his, straightening her posture to look down at him. Somehow, he looked small.

 _Why are you doing this?_ She didn’t know. Certainly, he was old enough to take care of himself and face the consequences for his own actions. And even though his question was definitely addressing the fact she was now standing in the middle of his room — as she had done for the past months, — she couldn’t help but wonder why she was doing all of that: going to parties, agreeing to watch him from afar. She could just as easily tell her mom that it wasn’t her problem and let them deal with Derek themselves, like it was supposed to be.

For quite some time, she had been in denial. But deep down, the masochist side of her mind knew very well why she was doing it. She didn’t mind it. She didn’t hate it. In fact, if anything, every time he drank a little too much and sat in the car in silence during their way back home, she couldn’t help but enjoy it. Not the silence itself, though it was nice. But Derek. 

“Casey?”

She nearly jumped at the mention of her name, although his voice was only a whisper.

“Because you literally can't find your own limbs if I tell you to?"

"I think I can tell an arm from a leg.” 

Casey shrugged, awkwardly clasping her hands in front of her body while debating with herself whether she should just leave his room — the most sane, obvious option — or keep being stared at by his inquiring eyes. He wouldn’t give up. 

She met his gaze and was momentarily taken aback by the softness found in it; if he had, at some point in his life, looked at someone like that, she had never been the receiving end of it. He was genuinely waiting for an answer, which made her suddenly self-conscious. _He’ll most probably not even remember this tomorrow_ , she thought, which brought along a very bizarre feeling of frustration.

"Despite what you might think, your family cares about you, Derek. This wasn't me babysitting, though that was my first assumption when George asked me to go with you." She promptly bit her own tongue until it hurt, cursing herself for revealing everything. She blamed it on her exhaustion and drowsiness. 

Derek’s eyebrows rose to his forehead in bewilderment. "Wait, so… all those times you asked to come with me was actually... _his_ doing?" She allowed herself a second to be surprised at how hurt he sounded, as if he had been expecting something else. But just as quickly as she spotted that emotion, it was replaced by a scoff. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You hate parties.”

“I don’t _hate_ parties,” she retorted in a defensive tone. “I just hate loud crappy music, stupid teenagers, drugs and alcohol in general.”

“So, you hate parties,” he repeated, grinning at her, which only made her roll her eyes. “And I don’t do drugs.”

“I know that. And so does George, but he was worried about your friends, Derek. And honestly, so was I. And it wasn’t for nothing. Look at you now!”

He groaned once again. “Geez, remind me to never let you go with me again.”

“ _Why_ did you say yes when I asked to go with you anyway if you didn’t want my company?”

Derek propped himself up with his elbows and sat up on the bed with his back to the headboard. Averting his eyes to his CD collection, he sighed. “I was being considerate. Your social life could use some help.” He turned his head to glare at her. “ _Plus_ , I’m now finding out that my dad would’ve had his way anyway, so I just made everything easier for you.” 

"Derek, he was worried. People show affection in different ways. He may not always tell you, and I blame your lack of emotion showing on him, but he _does_ love you. This is him caring. And _this_ ,” she added, motioning to the blanket that was now only covering his legs, "is _me_ caring. I'll keep doing that, even though you hate me and I shouldn't. That's what family does. Get over it."

Derek blinked, pressing his lips together in an unwavering line and casually scratching the back of his neck. Casey frowned, not used to seeing him so serious, and mentally rewound her last words to make sure she hadn’t said anything wrong. 

"Is that…" he began, but interrupted his own speech, swaying his head to the sides.

"What?"

Derek scrunched up his nose and blankly stared at the wall in front of him. For a minute, Casey thought he wasn’t going to answer her anymore, since he looked so lost in himself, but suddenly he turned to look at her again. "Is that how you see me?"

"How?"

"Family. You do it because it's your obligation?"

Casey shook her head promptly. "No, Derek. It's not... _obligation_. If anything, you're the last person I'd have to do anything for in this house," she added.

He nodded. "Fair. But do you... really see me as family?” Derek tilted his head to the side and Casey couldn’t help but notice how strangely uneasy he seemed and sounded. Almost… nervous? He ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “As your _brother_?"

Casey’s breath hitched for a second and she swallowed as she tried to figure out how to answer that question. Raw, cruel, naked truth? No. She could — and would — never see Derek as her brother. She could very easily call Marti and Edwin her siblings, but Derek? No matter how many scenarios she came up with in her mind, he simply could never fit the brother role in her life. 

She never failed to notice how she’d be quick to introduce him as her stepbrother to anyone who asked, as opposed to Marti and Edwin, who she openly called siblings. And maybe, at first, she did it to distance themselves, as a manner of showing everyone — and even herself — that he had no relation to her whatsoever. They were merely acquaintances, people who had absolutely nothing in common, forced to live under the same roof and tolerate each other. 

But now? Now, she simply didn’t want to think, use or _get_ used to the word brother. Because it implied too many things. It made things harder. Impossible. Cruel. Taboo, even. She had lost count of how many nights she had spent wondering if she was a bad person utterly for not being able to see him as her family. _Why is it so hard to call him brother?_ , her inner voice would question her. And she knew the answer. It was locked inside a tiny box hidden among obscure thoughts; she didn’t dare to open it up, because it would only cause a disaster she could never be able to repair.

He was still waiting for an answer, eyes attentive on her face as she laughed it off with a wave of her hand. "Is that what drunk Derek is like? Philosophical? What's with all those questions?"

Derek sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on the headboard and pinching the bridge of his nose. Of all the things she expected, him being frustrated at her for not continuing conversation was not one of them. She didn’t understand why this question was so important, but it was clearly bothering him. 

"Just get out of here and go to sleep already, Casey." 

To anyone else, Derek would have sounded just as annoyed as always; it was his usual manner of speaking, same vexed expression. But Casey heard the softness in his voice — granted it was marred with frustration, but it was soft. And for the life of God, she didn’t want to lose this Derek. So, she was quick to reply with something less confusing than her real thoughts:

"I don't know." 

Derek opened his eyes again, letting his hand fall to rest on top of his legs. He frowned, slightly puzzled. "What do you mean?" 

"Sometimes, I do. When we fight. When you annoy me just for the sake of it.” She shrugged, trying to sound as casual as she could. “That's what siblings do, right?" 

“ _Step_ siblings,” he corrected her promptly, voice as low as a whisper again, as if he was telling her a secret. She didn’t miss the sadness that seemed to cross his eyes when he searched her face for something she didn’t know. 

Casey noticed he had been doing that quite often for the past months, correcting anyone who called them siblings. She wondered if he had the same reasons she had to use the word _step_ when talking about him: to create a separation between them; to make sure she knew she would never be his family. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but there was something pricking her heart as she tried to come to a conclusion.

"What about the times you don't? See me as a brother, I mean." 

Casey shifted the weight of her body to her left foot and swallowed again. She was feeling uncomfortable, as if somehow, she was under a spotlight and the whole world was waiting to hear what she had to say. Just for good measure, she looked back at the door. _Still closed._

She looked back at him, amazed at his persistence. In other circumstances, she would be the one trying to start a conversation and he would be the one trying to run. 

But now he was being patient and sweet and it was doing things to her heart. She hated it. With all her might, she hated it. Most of all, she hated herself for feeling. She had been dealing with those feelings for quite some time — it seemed like an eternity — and it was easier to ignore them when he was being his usual stupid self, but when he was nice? Not so easy. She couldn’t help it. 

"Why are you asking me that, Derek?" 

“Probably the booze,” he replied with a half-smile that instantly made her heart flutter. She focused her eyes on his floor to keep her sanity.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“The truth.” 

Casey opened her mouth to protest, eyes still glued to a shirt that was poking out from under his bed, when he cut her off. “You’re not going to hurt my feelings, Casey. I’m not you.”

She finally looked up at him to roll her eyes. “Drunk Derek is as stupid as sober Derek.”

“Not stupid, realistic.”

She shook her head. “We were forced to live in the same house as teenagers.”

“I know, I was there.” 

Ignoring his sarcasm, she added: “You can’t ask me to automatically see someone I barely know as my brother.”

“No, you can’t,” he agreed. And there was no humor in his tone. _That’s a first_ , she thought. 

“But I... I mean, it doesn’t mean I don’t... I...” she stuttered, frustrated at herself for not being able to put a couple of words together and just say something. She was expecting him to burst into laughter for her lack of vocabulary, but he appeared to be just as confused as she was. She was so good with feelings: she felt it, she said it. But she couldn’t do it with Derek. It felt like crossing a line, like giving him access to her soul. 

Suddenly, his lips twitched upwards in a mocking smile. “What? It doesn’t mean you don’t _love_ me like Edwin and Marti? Is that what you were going to say?”

“Well, yes,” she affirmed, crossing her arms. Something flickered in his eyes, but it was so quick that Casey wasn’t able to decode it. “Maybe if you stopped annoying me, pranking me or insulting me every chance you get, I could actually start seeing you more like a brother and less like an enemy?”

Derek buried his face in his hands, laughing humorlessly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he said, even though his tone suggested the opposite. His fingertips were now hidden under his hair, his laugh vanishing quickly. “It’s not funny at all. It’s quite unfunny, actually.”

“Derek…” Casey called sweetly. She had never seen him act that way before and it was extremely concerning. When he didn’t look up, she sat on the edge of his bed and gently grabbed his wrists, pulling them down. Derek immediately looked at her hands with skepticism and wide eyes, — for a second, she waited for him to brush her off, but all he did was lift his eyes to hers. She took it as a green sign. “Tell me what’s going on. I promise I won’t tell anyone or make fun of you or whatever you’d do to me if the roles were reversed.”

“You really don’t believe in the kindness of my heart, do you?” 

Glad that at least his humor was back, she smiled; his lips mirrored hers. “I do. Just not when it comes to me.”

His smile faltered in the blink of an eye. “You just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

His eyes were once again searching for something on her face and she couldn’t help but feel completely exposed. When he stopped at her eyes, the feeling intensified: it was as if he was trying to find answers for questions he didn’t even have yet. Suddenly, Casey became extra conscious of the fact that she was still holding his wrists. It was the middle of January and her skin was as cold as the weather outside, but somehow, Derek’s was warm under her touch. 

She frowned slightly, trying to come up with reasons why he still hadn’t pushed her away, if not for the coldness of her skin, at least for the mere fact that she was touching him. She could feel his pulse speeding up under her thumbs, as if responding to the situation unfolding before them. _How many seconds have I been staring at him for?_ She worried that if she looked away now, this moment would be lost forever. 

“I can’t stop doing it,” he whispered.

“Doing what?”

“Pranking... and insulting you.” 

It sounded so ridiculous and childish, yet his voice sounded filled with pain to her ears. 

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to see me as your brother. _Or_ your enemy. So, I have to keep a balance.”

“Derek, it doesn’t make any sense.”

He gritted his teeth. “Yes, it _does_ , okay?”

“Why?” she insisted. And that was what it took for him to finally realize that she was touching him; his eyes averted to her hands and he seemed to think for a few seconds before pulling his hands to himself. Casey missed his heartbeat like it was her own coming to a stop. It seemed too silent all of a sudden.

“ _Shit_ ,” he cursed, shaking his head. “Go to your room, Casey. Please. Thanks for the ride, you won’t need to do that again.”

 _Please. Thanks._ Things she didn’t hear quite often — or at all, unless she practically begged him to say them. Worry washed over her face as she understood he really wasn’t well. And neither was she.

“Derek…”

“Get out of here, Casey,” he snapped, making her flinch. His gaze was cold, but she could see under the layers of uncertainty and fear. 

“No,” she said firmly. “You don’t give me orders. And I won’t leave until you tell me what the hell is going on. You’re not fine. If you think I can just go to my room and sleep knowing that you’re not okay, you’re clearly out of your mind, because I really don’t un—”

“You’re just making things harder!” he said, his voice rising a bit. Casey shushed him, her hand willingly making its way to his arm. His eyes didn’t fail to notice the movement, but he didn’t shake her off this time.

“You’re going to wake up the kids!”

He ran his fingers through his hair again and shook his head. “I can’t do this. See? If I’m nice to you, you’re nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No!” 

His frustration was reflecting on herself now and she sighed loudly, wishing she knew what to do to make him open up or at least feel a little better. She would rather have him insulting her than being so distant and hurt. He was looking at the ceiling now, but she watched as his hand found hers and removed it from his arm. She didn’t want to feel as hurt as she did. 

“I just...” He bit his lip, cursing under his breath. “If I annoy you, you get mad at me. You keep your distance and I _need_ you to keep your distance. But sometimes I push too hard and I think you might hate me, so I have to pull back.”

“Derek, why w—” His eyes found hers so abruptly that she interrupted herself. 

“Because if I stop it and I’m nice to you, you get closer. You _can’t_ get closer to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m _fucking human_.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“ _Fuck_ , Casey, I can’t have you close to me because you’re my _stepsister_ and I don’t _see_ you as a stepsister and if I allow myself to be anything but the annoying stepbrother, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.” He sighed again, but his gaze softened over her. “I don't hate you, Casey. It’s actually the opposite."

She felt her stomach slowly tying into knots, sending waves of warmth and confusion and fear and so many other emotions she couldn’t even pinpoint. Derek didn’t seem to realize her expression as he kept ranting as if he couldn’t control his own words: “I _hate_ this. _I do._ I’ve been fighting my own mind, because I know I can’t have these kinds of thoughts, but I can’t help it. And the only way I can keep you away is if I annoy you. I know I’m a jerk and I do it on purpose, because how _fucked up_ is it to love your stepsister? My family already sees me as an outcast, no wonder this had to happen to me. I thought it’d go away, but it’s been _three fucking years_ and it hasn’t gone anywhere and _why_ won’t this stupid feeling go away?” With another grunt, he shoved his head between his hands. 

If Casey didn’t know what the word shock meant before, she had a complete experience now. She could hear Derek cursing loudly and she would have chastised him for doing so on any other day, but all she could think about was the word she had never heard him say to anyone before.

“ _Love_ your stepsister?” she whispered, stunned. Her heart was stammering so loudly in her chest that she could hear it drumming against her ears. Derek’s hands turned into fists and he let go of his head only to cast a regretful look at her. “ _Three years_?”

“ _Fuck._ I’m drunk, don’t mind what I say. Just… forget it. Go to your bed, it’s late and you have to drive the—”

“Derek, stop!” she demanded, receiving a surprised look from him in return. “Why didn’t you... you never said anything, you shouldn’t... everything you did to me—”

“ _I know_! I’m… I didn’t know what else to do. I knew it would be like this, I knew that the moment I said something, you’d… I just can’t keep my _fucking mouth shut_. I guess you were right, I should've listened to you and stayed sober.”

Casey shook her head frantically. “No, you can’t... okay, you can’t just tell me that and.... Derek, you... what about Kendra or Amy or all the other girls you’ve dated?”

“Me being stupid? Trying to make you jealous? Trying to convince myself I didn’t want you? Take your pick. They all broke up with me for the same reason.”

“Why?”

“They thought I was obsessed with you.”

“Derek…”

He suddenly leaned forward and she stiffened before he stopped a few centimeters from her face. She could see light freckles on his nose, which she had never noticed before; his breath was cold against her skin, but she didn’t mind it. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks, making her as flushed as she would look outside in the snow. Ironically, her blood was boiling in her veins. She didn’t move and she didn’t know if it was due to fear of getting closer to him or to the fact that she couldn’t feel her muscles.

“They’re right,” he whispered. And his eyes were so tender upon her face that she took more than five seconds to realize she wasn’t breathing. This was another side of Derek Venturi, one she didn’t know existed — and doubted _he himself_ knew existed — and one she wouldn’t mind getting used to. “Must be karma,” he continued. “The only thing I want, I can’t have.”

Casey gasped silently and his eyes went to her lips for a split second before going back to hers. She wouldn’t be able to hold his gaze for longer, because each second that passed, she felt her body going number. She was pretty aware of the fact he had power over her, — it became evident when she realized that every time he tried to get a rise out of her for dating someone she didn’t like, he succeeded — but she had never been the object of his attention. Not like that. He had never let his eyes stay on her for more than a conversation would last — and their conversations never lasted more than necessary, according to his standards. Now that power intensified tenfold for the sole reason that Derek Venturi wanted _her_. Of all people. 

“I know I shouldn’t tell you everything like this. I’ll talk to Sam tomorrow and crash at his place for a while until I figure out what to d—”

Casey leaned forward before she could stop herself. Her lips found his with such intensity that his body teetered back before he could keep balance. A sound escaped from his throat and soon his hands found her face, cupping her cheeks; her own hands rose to rest on his chest, where his heart was beating just as fast as her own. If the two seconds Derek took to kiss her back wasn’t enough confirmation of his words, his heartbeat sure was.

Her hands crumpled up the fabric of his shirt, trying to pull him closer to her. Maybe it was for all the years of suppressed desires and self-flagellation for falling in love with the person who was supposed to be her brother, but nothing seemed to be enough.

Derek’s lips were soft, so unlike anything she’d ever pictured; he was tender and careful and every touch was as light as a feather. He tilted his head to the side and she followed his lead, opening her mouth as his tongue slid between her lips. He tasted like cheap beer and mint, a mixture she never imagined could be so good. Her chest filled up with a warm feeling, a reminder that Derek was capable of tearing down all her defenses. He had been doing it for as long as she could remember. He was doing it every second his lips moved over hers.

_Derek is kissing me._

The thought came with a mental gasp and Casey broke the kiss with such violence that Derek looked at her with wide eyes, concern written all over his face. His hands fell to the mattress and her own found her lips, skeptical.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, trying to catch his breath. 

“What?” She frowned, unable to find her own voice. She wasn’t sure he had heard her. “ _No_. No, you didn’t.”

Derek lifted his hands to reach her face one more time and she felt a shiver running down her spine. His eyes bore into hers with such power that she forgot why she stopped the kiss in the first place. But this was Derek. _He can’t be soft. He can’t be gentle. He can’t be nice or in love with Casey McDonald. It doesn’t make any sense._

“I’m, uh…”

“Confused?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She exhaled, the air coming out shaky. “Yeah. That.”

“Well, welcome to the club,” he said jokingly, wearing a smile that she knew all too well. She hated that smile, — no, she didn’t. She ached to touch his lips, to know how they would feel under her fingertips. She didn’t know what was stopping her and why the line had been drawn at touching him when she had just literally kissed him. “I’ve struggled with this for so long, Case.” 

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

And there was that smile again. Unwillingly, she gave in and touched the corner of his mouth. Surprisingly, Derek leaned into her touch with a hint of astonishment in his eyes. Soon enough, it was replaced with sheer affection. Her stomach flipped.

“You’re not my sister, Casey.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And I’m not your brother.”

“No, you’re not.”

He took her hand and flipped it over, so that her palm was facing upwards; slowly, he covered it with his own hand, almost as if comparing their sizes. Casey could swear her skin was on fire, even though she knew her hands were cold against his. She could feel the faint hint of his rapid heartbeat when his wrist touched hers and, somehow, acknowledging the fact that he was just as nervous as she was and that she, of all people, was the cause of it, brought great comfort. 

Derek was still staring at their hands, but Casey’s eyes were glued to his face; she saw the exact moment when his lips curved into a light smile.

“Casey?”

For fear of stammering again, she decided for a simple “Hmm?”

Derek curved his fingers and enlaced them with hers so casually that she had to catch her breath when he raised his eyes to her level. “I don’t want to keep pushing you away.”

“Then don’t.”

“But then Nora would kill me. And then _my dad_ would kill me.”

“You can’t die twice.”

“My dad would make sure I’d resuscitate just so he could kill me again.”

His smirk reflected on her lips for a split second, just before she was haunted by a thought which made her pull her hand from his grip and jump out of the bed, pacing restlessly across the room. 

“What if we ruin our families? Derek, _what the hell are we doing_?” She halted and stared at him, getting back to her pacing before he could have a chance to even think of an answer. “How could I be so _selfish_? Now we’ll never be the same and we can _never_ go back to what we were and mom will send me to live with my dad and I’ll have to leave you all behind, that is _if_ she doesn’t decide to break it off with George and we’ll never get to be a family and I’ll just ruin everyone’s li—”

She was interrupted by Derek’s hand reaching for the sleeve of her jacket when she walked by his bed, pulling her to sit down again. 

“Can you stop overthinking just this once? You won’t ruin anything. _No one_ ’s going to break anything off and you’re _not_ going to live with your dad either. Casey…”

“What?”

He sighed, but he didn’t sound frustrated. If she had to point out an emotion, she would guess mockery. “I’m drunk as hell.” _Yup._

“Are we stating facts now?”

“I’m just saying... this is the closest you’ll get from me sharing feelings and being true to myself or whatever girls do even when they’re sober.” He sighed once again and looked into her eyes. Casey visually flinched due to the intensity of his gaze. “I’m... in love with you. Or whatever.”

She gaped at him, flummoxed. Although she was perfectly aware of the fact that they had just kissed — and Derek had corresponded quite quickly — and he had somehow accidentally said the word ‘ _love_ ’ before, hearing him say the words directly at her was another story. No one had ever said that to her. 

She knew Derek was capable of loving: he loved his family and she firmly believed that he _did_ love Sally in some way. But she never thought he could direct such a sentiment towards her. It didn’t sound like him. It didn’t sound like her to reciprocate either. Derek and Casey were doomed to hate each other for eternity, or at least pretend to do so. Falling in love with her stepbrother was never in her plans, and she hated when things escaped her control.

Except this.

She didn’t hate this. 

Not one bit.

She watched as Derek’s serious face turned into a mask of familiar mockery. “Huh, I guess I should’ve said it _way_ before. I never thought it’d leave you speechless. How many speeches could I have saved myself from?”

Casey smacked his head and, instead of retaliating as usual, he laughed. A lilting sound she instantly fell in love with. “Me too,” she whispered back. “Or whatever.”

“Can’t blame you.” He replied with a grin. 

“Do you really think we can try this?”

“No. Not trying. I don’t need to _try_ it, Case. Do you trust me?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes.”

“Good. Then we’ll talk about it in the morning and figure it out before talking to our parents. I’m sure Edwin has some type of bulletproof vest or something I can wear.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“ _You_ were the one ranting about going to live with your dad and breaking up our parents, but _sure_ , whatever makes you sleep at night.”

The mention of the word ‘ _sleep_ ’ was enough to remind her of the past few minutes and the fact that it was nearly three in the morning and she was supposed to be in bed at least four hours ago. Not in Derek’s room. With their faces only a few centimeters apart. 

A gnawing feeling prodded at her chest when the concern about whether Derek would remember that moment the next day or not hit her. She didn’t think she could endure living with everything he had confessed if he couldn’t remember any of the sacred words that left his lips. She would only be left with empty memories and probably — most definitely, — a broken heart.

“I think we should sleep,” he suggested, decimating any remnant bit of shallow and inconceivable hope she had about not ending that night. She became extremely aware of the fact that his thumb was now tenderly brushing her knuckles. 

“Will you…” she began, stopping mid-sentence.

“What?”

“Will you remember this tomorrow?”

Derek frowned, his eyes flickering with something unknown. She thought he would have a smart retort or a simple roll of his eyes coming, but all he said was: “Yes.”

And, somehow, that simple word meant more than anything he could have said. She could see all the words that would have followed if Derek was the talk-about-feelings kind of guy written in his eyes. Just like her, he wouldn’t be able to forget it. Yet _unlike_ her, he would never admit it.

Maybe her expression didn’t replicate what was on her mind, because a second later he affirmed: “ _Yes, I will_ , Case.”

“Okay.” She nodded, feeling her cheeks blushing furiously. When she moved to get up, his grip tightened around her wrist. 

“Where are you going?”

“To sleep.”

He looked to the side, focusing on his closed door for a second, before turning to her with an unfamiliar sheepish demeanor. He shrugged casually, leaning back. 

“You can sleep here. If you want to.”

“Um…”

“ _Just_ sleep,” he guaranteed, narrowing his eyes at her. “What do you think I am?”

Casey almost cursed herself aloud when she tersely agreed to that nonsense with a nod. “Let me just change.” 

“Okay.”

She got up as fast as possible — whether it was for embarrassment or for the chance to get back to his room as quickly as she could, she didn't know — and left for her own room; when Casey closed her door behind her, she managed to walk towards her bed, feeling her legs weak and feeble. In her mind, she knew she shouldn't go back to Derek and sleep by his side, even if they weren't doing anything other than simply falling asleep. But the mere thought of doing so sounded too intimate. _You just kissed him_ , the stupid inner voice that now sounded a lot smarter retaliated. Touching her lips with her fingertips once again, she couldn't help a smile as she managed to find her strength back and get into her pajamas. 

After brushing her teeth and setting her alarm on her phone, her heart still hammering loudly inside her chest as if she had ran a marathon, she stopped at the threshold of her room, hand holding the door hesitantly. Those intrusive thoughts came back like an avalanche. _What will the kids say if they see me coming out of his room in the morning? What will mom do if she finds out we kissed? What does that kiss even mean?_

She took a step back, but for what felt like the first time in her life, emotion beat reason. If she didn't walk into his room that night, she would never forgive herself. She had spent so much time denying what she felt for Derek that it seemed like a heresy to keep denying it now that she knew what his lips tasted like. Against everything her mind was screaming at her, she took another step and walked over to his room as quietly as she could. 

The lights were still on and Derek was comfortably lying on the right side of the bed, face turned to the other side. She watched his chest move up and down, presuming he had already fallen asleep. 

Casey reached for the light switch and swore her heart nearly stopped when the room became as dark as the night, as if it was finally dawning on her that none of what she had experienced in the past few minutes had been a dream. She moved silently towards the bed, leaving her phone on his bedside table and sliding under his blanket, welcoming the warmth of the sheets where he had been laying down before. 

For a second, time seemed to stop and Casey inhaled the familiar scent: everything smelled like Derek — a mix of softener and his cologne, with hints of wood and spices. She froze still, only turning her head to the side; she could hear his soft breathing and it had a calming effect on her. But suddenly, Derek shifted and rolled on his side, stretching his arm over her stomach. 

Casey felt her whole body tense up, the only reaction being the hair on her arms standing up. His face was so close that she could feel his breath tickling the sensitive skin between her shoulder and her neck.

“I thought you had backed out,” he said languidly, as if he was trapped between the real world and the parallel dimension of dreams. 

“I thought about it.”

He let out a chuckle through his nose and she shivered before relaxing and laying on her right side to face him. Derek’s eyes were closed, but he kept his arm firm around her waist, a faint and symbolic reminder that she couldn’t go back to her room, to her old life, to her fake-you-hate-your-step-brother-so-you’ll-eventually-believe-it attitude.

Every millimeter of their bodies was touching, chests and legs pressed together and sending electric waves through her skin; she would take about twenty minutes to warm up on winter nights, but her body was heating up quite fast with his warmth. There was nothing sexual about it, it was only natural. Almost familiar. Like it was always meant to be like that. The thing was, the more she got used to it, the more she craved it.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, startling her. She thought he had finally fallen asleep after a few minutes of silence. 

“I’m not.”

“Your heart says otherwise.”

She should’ve known he could feel her heartbeat reverberating against his chest, for she could feel his own. And it wasn’t nearly as rapid or frantic as hers. Casey blushed violently, but thanked the stars Derek had his eyes closed and couldn’t see it. 

“I like this,” she whispered, a barely audible sound that she was sure he hadn’t heard until he spoke again. 

“Yes,” he agreed, tilting his chin up until their lips were centimeters apart. “I like it, too.”

There was a little smile playing on his lips, one that she replicated on her own. After that, Derek quickly drifted off to sleep and she remained there, watching him carefully, unconsciously matching their breaths until her eyelids became too heavy. 

It was the golden dome inside his room created by the first sun rays outside his window that woke Casey up the next day before her alarm did. The first thing she noticed was some type of weight pressed to her waist and a soft snoring. Then everything came down at once and she remembered all the words, the sensations and the emotions of the night before like it was a distant dream coming to life. 

She had to swallow a scream before opening her eyes and getting used to the idea of waking up beside Derek Venturi. She blinked a couple of times and focused her sight on his face; a smile crept up on her lips at his messy hair — what else is new? — covering half of his forehead and his lips slightly parted. He looked so innocent and peaceful that she wished time could stop so she could engrave this moment in her mind. 

Casey was one second away from combing his hair with her fingers just to know what it would feel like when her phone started buzzing with the alarm, announcing a new day. Grunting, she reached her hand back and grabbed her phone, turning the alarm off. 

“Casey, if we want to do this, I need you to stop with the alarms. I mean it. Like, this is a deal breaker for me.” 

The mocking tone didn’t leave his voice even when he was barely awake and she wasn’t surprised. But the fact that he knew, even with his eyes tightly shut that she was here and it was a confirmation that she hadn’t conjured the previous night in her mind, was enough for her to sigh with a mix of relief and happiness. 

“Maybe if you stopped the pranking…”

Derek snapped his eyes open and gasped in an offended tone. “I could _never_ stop the pranking, it’s tradition. What do you take me for, Casey?” 

“I should know better,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He nodded and yawned, shifting a bit to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he looked at her again, he grinned. “I lied last night. I actually enjoy pranking you.”

“De- _rek_!”

“It’s true.”

“Ugh. I have to wake the kids up.”

“Alright, how about this: you go to the kitchen and make me your disgusting miracle-hungover-healer-drink-thing while I wake them up?”

“So, you want me to make breakfast for everyone, _including you_?”

He rolled his eyes. “Just get some cereal and milk for the kids. I don’t know how to make that disgusting drink. And my head hurts like hell.”

“Serves you right for getting drunk.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“You’re not fighting me over this?” she asked, a little flummoxed.

He shrugged. “I don’t have the energy to do it now. But definitely expect some kind of payback.”

“I don’t have the energy to fight you on this either, so I’m just going to ignore it. Wake up Edwin first, because he takes the longest to get ready.” 

Casey rolled on her back and began to get up, but Derek grabbed her wrist, causing her to turn to him with arched eyebrows. He propped himself up with his elbows to level up their eyes. “Can we talk after you take them to their appointments?” 

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. She didn’t expect him to remember everything they had talked about hours ago, much less to want to talk about feelings. 

“Um… yes?”

“Stop looking at me like I’m an alien, Casey. I told you I’d remember. I wasn't that drunk.”

“I’m not used to this, Derek.”

He sighed, letting his body fall back onto the mattress. “Neither am I, what the hell have you turned me into?”

“Okay, I really need to go now, because I set this thing ten minutes before my actual alarm and it’s going t—”

Derek reached for the back of her neck and pulled her towards him abruptly to kiss her lips. It was just a peck, but it left her breathless. She rested her hands on his chest for support. 

“This is very effective in shutting you up.”

“De- _rek_!”

He smiled and finally raised his arm to release her from his grip, rolling to the other side of the bed to get up. She walked out of the room without even looking at him, but was able to hear his quiet laugh when she closed the door after her. 

Casey went to the kitchen and set three bowls on the counter, getting two boxes of cereal and milk from the fridge for the kids to serve themselves. Then, she began preparing Derek’s famous secret hangover healer; it was mainly placebo. The first time he had a hangover, she said she knew a recipe that promised to make him feel better just to trick him into drinking healthy stuff he hated. Surprisingly, he said it worked and now, every time he needed it, she would put whatever green leaves and spices she could find into the blender. She was finishing slicing kale leaves when Derek climbed down the stairs with Marti on his arms and Lizzie on tail. The sound of his voice was enough to make her heart complain by beating loudly — and almost painfully — inside her chest, but she did her best to play it cool for the kids. 

“Morning, Casey,” Lizzie said, taking a seat on the counter and pouring cereal on her bowl.

“Good morning, girls,” she replied, turning to see Derek helping Marti sit on the stool next to Lizzie. “Had a good night's sleep?” She mentally punched herself as her voice sounded squeaky to her own ears. 

Lizzie’s eyebrows rose to her forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” If anything, her attempt to lower her voice made it sound even higher, somehow, and she panicked. Casey knew she was a bad liar, but in her defense, she didn’t know she would have to lie to her own sister so early in the morning.

Derek’s eyes flickered to her face and she nearly gritted her teeth when he smirked. Of course he would laugh at her instead of helping. 

“Why are you blushing?” Marti asked, in her innocence, eyes glued to her face.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Smerek, isn’t she blushing?” she asked her older brother, intently staring at him for support. 

Derek nodded and leaned over the counter, casually resting his forearms on top of it to look closely at Casey. “I think she _is_ , Smarti. Why are you blushing, Casey?”

She glared at him, ready to retaliate. But Lizzie, _bless her heart,_ aware of her older sister’s embarrassment, changed topics immediately. “You should help Marti with her breakfast, Derek. We’re going be late.”

“That’s okay, I can do it,” Marti exclaimed, sliding her bowl towards her. 

Casey seized the opportunity to turn her back to them and turn the blender own, debating with herself whether she would be able to hide her secrets if they were practically written all over her face in black permanent ink. And if Derek kept teasing her, she certainly wouldn’t last long.

She nearly jumped when she felt his presence behind her, chest pressed to her back. She could feel his heartbeat. His hand reached for the cupboard drawer and she ignored the shiver that ran down her spine when he lowered his head and his breath reached her shoulder. This wouldn’t be easy.

“You forgot the spoons,” he said, loud enough for her to hear it over the noise the blender made. He made a show of taking the spoons into his hands and closing the drawer, playing it cool like their whole situation didn’t mess with his head or didn’t make him nervous in the least.

But his heart said otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it ❤️  
> A shoutout to the Dasey shippers out there, keeping the show and the characters alive.  
> If you feel like it, leave me a comment. Validation is always welcome! Hope you have a lovely day!  
> Be well, be kind.


End file.
